CELEBRITY BIG BROTHER 2015

Posted on January 13, 2015September 12, 2018 by rosie

It’s very rare for me to venture into the world of Celebrity Big Brother.

However, as I have genuinely lost the Broadchurch plot, and I was a bit brain dead anyway, CBB seemed the most appropriate thing to watch, given that my powers of concentration were somewhat lacking.

Let’s see what other brain dead people are up to this evening I thought!

Being female, I am of course capable of doing two things at once, and I had one eye on the telly, and one eye on Twitter, which almost went into overdrive when one of the occupants of the house was asked to leave immediately, instead of going through the normal eviction process.

He has in short been given the Celebrity Big Brother boot up his arse.

To be frank, you don’t actually have to watch ANY controversial television programme these days, you can just read around 20 tweets, and get the gist of what’s gone on.

So bloody convenient for us busy, creative people, who need something to write about!

Celebrity Big Brother housemate of 2015, 71 year old Ken Morley, an old timer actor on Coronation Street, has found himself in BIG trouble, because of his very unfortunate choice of phrase.

He’s upset or insulted just about everyone in the house, and is judged to be racist, homophobic, sexist, rude, disgusting, despicable and offensive to name but a few.

And I agree with all those opinions, he is guilty as charged.

But the issue for me, and I suspect anyone over the age of 60, is that he probably has NO idea that he is doing or saying anything offensive, and a high percentage of people who were merrily Tweeting away while the programme was being shown, had exactly the same thoughts as me.

I know a lot of ‘Ken Morley’ type men, I reckon many readers of this blog know a ‘Ken Morley’ type man too. There is usually one in most families.

A bonkers old Grandad or an opinionated Uncle. They are everywhere. Still.

They use the same terminology today that they have been using for 50 years and in my opinion, simply don’t recognise the Politically Correct party anthem.

In the 50’s and 60’s the unacceptable, ‘N’ word that he uttered in two different forms WAS what black people were regularly called, one version was usually used to describe a black person’s colour, the other was a slang term for the same word. And back then, it was not deemed to be particularly offensive. Indeed, many black people used to mock their white friends, and call them ‘Chalkey’.

It’s just how it was. But you know, I know, and the media knows that things have moved on.

These days, it is wholly offensive to use these words. Despicable Ken knows this too, but he says what HE thinks anyway, and has perfected a curmudgeonly attitude that also says, ‘and if you don’t like it then YOU can bugger off’.

In a way, I have a certain sympathy for him. The look of sheer confusion on his face was SO indicative as he was ‘charged’ with the offending behaviour.

I wouldn’t mind betting that he was just being himself, talking to everyone in the Big Brother house, just as he talks indoors to family and friends, as he has done for decades, he either doesn’t accept he is being offensive, or simply doesn’t care!

His Celebrity Big Brother BIG mistake was underestimating the power of a group of Politically Correct ‘P’ list questionable c’lebs, who trod a fine line between bullying a pensioner, and casting themselves as judge and jury. They clearly felt it necessary to beat the drum very loudly and relentlessly to make some ‘good telly’ for the baying CBB crowds.

In my opinion, and if Twitter is anything to go by, the opinion of many viewers, is that Ken Morley was just as much a victim of offensive behaviour, as those he was accused of offending, BY those he was accused of offending.

Of course not everyone will agree with me, either way, if you’ve been watching Celebrity Big Brother, tell me what you think.

WHERE THERE’S A WELLIE, THERE’S A WAY!

Posted on January 7, 2015August 20, 2018 by rosie

Yes you can take the wellies out of the bag, but I personally cannot take the bags out of the wellies, as on the one hand (or foot) they leak like hell and really should go to the wellington graveyard.

But on the other hand (or foot) they are simply the most comfortable things I ever put on my feet.

If it was socially acceptable, I would wear my wellies at work with my black meet n greet dress, and I certainly would have worn them to our Christmas party to save myself the agony of 5 hours with my bunions wedged between two jewel encrusted straps.

Not to mention the fact that to even get that far, I’d had to purchase 3 separate pairs of jewel encrusted ‘strappy’ sandals to try to find ONE pair that could accommodate my bastard bunions.

But one out of three ain’t bad, and I worship at the shrine of eBay.

My beloved animal print wellies have seen action and lots of it. They have moved house 3 times, and travelled with me to Spain and back twice and oh my days I’ve surely had my money’s worth out of them.

£6.00 at Primarni, and worth every single penny. However, the cost per wear has now worn out and I’m seriously pushing my luck, but what’s a girl to do. They are like old friends.

Shit covered, leaky old friends, I grant you, but old friends nevertheless.

But I won’t lie to you,, it’s not a good look having two carrier bag handles flapping about your legs, when all those around you on your daily dog walk, including my daughter, are rocking the Hunters and the Joules of the wellie world. I look like the poor relation.

Oh yes I forgot. I AM the poor relation!

Granted, I do try to keep up with the more affluent, by selecting my carrier bags with care. Some days I go upmarket Waitrose, but mainly you guessed it, I’m woman at Aldi.

But there is hope on the horizon. I have a new admirer, who has noted that on my daily dog walks, my footwear is sadly lacking and has suggested that as he has ‘connections’ he will treat me to a new pair.

Now this ‘admirer’ and I are really only ever going to be ‘just good friends’ and the lady (me) did protest muchly about the acceptance of a gift of new boots.

BUT, as we are not talking diamonds or pearls, and needs must, I graciously informed him that I am a size 5, to which he replied, ….

‘and do you take a normal size width’………so let’s see what he has to offer……BOOTS, I mean BOOTS………

THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

Posted on January 6, 2015August 20, 2018 by rosie

Just lately we can’t seem to avoid seeing, and reading news from around the world of the depths to which humanity can sink, so it warms the little cockles of my heart to be able to personally bring you a tiny snippet which goes to prove that there are also some kind thoughtful folk out there too.

A few days ago, at the wedding venue where I work, I picked up a phone message from an elderly sounding gentleman. He left no details, just gave his phone number and requested a call back.

Cynical old me thought to myself that he’d got the wrong number, daft old bugger, I sighed and perhaps a bit impatiently waited for him to pick up the phone as I returned his call.

After some time, he answered in the old fashioned way, with his number, something that I think you will agree we hardly ever do these days, when a simple ‘Hello’ usually suffices.

I told him who I was, and then instantly added ‘suspicious’ to my cynical side, when he proceeded to ask me if a certain named person worked at my office.

And hell yes, I went all sniffy, and curtly replied, ‘who wants to know, and why’?

Elderly man, asking about sweet 16 year old girl. I immediately went on the defensive. Suspiciously cynical silly me………

It turned out, that Mr F. had found our young girl Sophie’s wage packet in a local supermarket car park. He’d opened it up, found the name of her employer, and the reason for the call was that he was anxious to return her lost wages.

Honestly, I could have punched myself in the face for my initial lack of graciousness, and looking back on the conversation, predictably then went into over egging the pudding with my gratitude at Mr. F’s kindness in contacting us.

Like any other 16 year old, Sophie’s wages are hard earned and at that age, we all know every penny counts, so there was a huge sigh of relief all ways round to know that a kindly, elderly man, who possibly might also welcome a few more pennies, had been honest enough to return what had been lost.

Wouldn’t it be a good idea if there was a ‘GOOD NEWS’ paper which only gave us positive human interest stories of people doing kind things.

I for one, am getting increasingly fed up with seeing pictures of ‘victims’ clearly instructed to pose with their gloomiest face, to reinforce some equally gloomy tale of mindless acts committed against them, which, let’s face it, might give similar idea’s to people who are easily swayed.

Instead let’s see more positive examples in the media of the kindness of strangers, because as I found out it is still out there, alive and kicking.

Imagine the feel good factor going on here. Sophie is a happy bunny as she has been reunited with her cash, and Mr. F, quite rightly, probably has a tiny little glowy feeling inside, knowing that on this occasion, his honesty was the best policy!

NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS ~ NONE!

Posted on January 1, 2015August 20, 2018 by rosie

If you have already had your Hello Sixty moment, then trust me, on New Year’s Day it is OK to say NO to New Year Resolutions!

Really, why put yourself through it, planning to deprive yourself of this that and possibly the other. For what reason exactly?

If you are thinking of resolutely changing your ways, by only eating chocolate on a Tuesday, or vowing not to be so opinionated or gobby in 2015, who exactly you are doing it all for.

Don’t do it to please others, or because you’ve read one too many Sunday Supplements.

I’m all for self-improvement, but let’s make it something that benefits us and makes us look and feel better. Chocolate in moderation is good for you, and who wants to be boring.

Why not simply commit to doing more things to enhance your life and wellbeing instead of doing less things that experts would have us believe are bad for us. Makes much better sense to me!

So I’m going to carry on with the chocolate and being a gobby cow, but I will also resolutely make the effort to paint my nails every week, and write far more missives for my blog in 2015.

Bugger that joining the gym or cutting out the Cava, far too extreme in my view. Life’s too short!

At 60, surely we are who we are ever going to be. People love us as we are, and if they don’t then tough shit, do we really care. I don’t, and nor should you.

THINGS THAT MEN DON’T NEED TO HEAR

Posted on December 3, 2014August 20, 2018 by rosie

How many of us mature ladies winced along with Ant and Dec as lightweight Kendra Wilkinson offered up far too information on live television during I’m A Celebrity Get me Out of Here.

After a dismal performance, she blamed her lack of stars on the fact that ‘she was on her period’.

Ant, poor chap turned away in embarrassment, whilst cheeky chappie Dec, bravely glossed over the statement and battled on regardless.

Of course ‘boys’ these days, are taught about these mysterious ‘girl’ things at around 11 years old, and as my own Grandson reliably informed me, even during THE lesson many of them were hiding behind their hands, sniggering in the back of the classroom, and have probably being going ‘yuk’ ever since.

Personally, I’d far rather ‘Miss’ had banged on to the boys a bit more about treating girls with kindness and respect, which will stand them in more good stead than knowing how a tampon expands in a glass of water!

So even though mature men know all about the inner workings of the female body, I think most of them just want to leave it there, no further informative updates required, thanks very much.

And I agree with them. I think girls today share far too many intimate details about their bodies with their partners, and indeed in Kendra’s case, millions of strangers.

I mean seriously, of all the inappropriate things to say, in the jungle in front of Ant and Dec on live television, ‘I’m on my period’, must get TV’s embarrassing moment of the year award!

It was almost loud and proud; yet in reality, ‘I really look forward to my period’, said NO woman EVER!

Let’s be honest, it’s a messy and sometimes painful old business, and unless you are some tree hugging, Mother Earth, nut job, who loves to embrace her inner woman, it just interferes with our lives and we hate it.

Men generally want their woman to be a vision of loveliness at all times. Yes of course they ‘know’ that periods happen, but don’t really want it spelled out to them that it is actually happening, like today, right here, right now!

I’d love to see girls going back to being a little more mysterious and discreet, ‘I’m not feeling to good today’ can be far more effective than a full on period alert, and who is really interested anyway.

Use it as a lame excuse to another girl and risk a ‘so what’ withering look, tell a bloke, and risk a look resembling the silent scream.

Yes, when it comes to men and the monthlies, NOT sharing, IS more caring!

How do you feel when you hear too much information, should girls share, or keep some things secret.

FLUSHED AWAY OH HAPPY DAY!

Posted on November 9, 2014September 12, 2018 by rosie

I think it was that strange, anxious woman, Gillian Mckeith who made a mint out of a book called ‘We are what we eat’

I’m not suggesting anyone would want to resemble Ms Mckeith in any way, all that fainting and falling about in the jungle, was just plain tedious, but after wading your way through a few giant size tins of Quality Street, and having just one more slice of your far too rich Christmas cake you may soon be feeling like a beached whale or, simply be just full of hot air.

You may in all honesty also LOOK like you’ve eaten too many pies, and you probably have. Lets just face it, you will be what you have eaten!

Yes in around 6 weeks’ time, you will be turning to the latest edition of your favourite magazines in an effort to find a cure for your lardy arse, and they will advise you to firstly embark on a detox programme to kick-start your digestion, before joining a weight loss club, all of who will be offering you a reduced joining fee as they wish you a Happy New Year.

The detoxing will involve copious amounts of juicing, and swallowing vile concoctions of vegetables, which should never be seen in the same sentence let alone in the same blender.

Then you will be spoilt for choice between Weight Watchers, Slimming World, Herbalife, Lighter Life, and if you are too bloody overweight possibly the Afterlife.

Try to avoid the last option, I can’t afford to lose any of my cherished readers…….

Luckily, I have an alternative suggestion, tried and tested by me, which will, I guarantee bring immediate relief to anyone suffering from any digestive malfunction, and will deflate more than your ego.

Yes ladies the therapy you require is quaintly entitled ‘Colonic Irrigation’

Stop it with the ‘oh yuk’. If I’ve done it, you can do it. It’s a piece of cake, nothing to it, you’ll end up laughing in the face of constipation and your free fall farting will be a thing of the past.

I have to tell you, that in many ways, I am ‘the woman least likely to’ when it comes to matters of any kind of therapy. Retail therapy being the obvious exception.

But recently out of curiosity, and naturally, so that I could bring you ‘first hand’ details of this treatment, I went for it, in a big way, and let me tell you, Miss Intrepid here was filled with the utmost trepidation on entering the beauty salon to await an appointment with a weapon of mass irrigation.

On first sight the equipment is so high tech, that you actually forget just where the tubes are about to be inserted. Initially, you also fail to realise that the box in the wall, vaguely resembling an empty television screen with a pipe running through the middle is actually going to be very significant as the treatment progresses.

In fact, the entire contents of your bum will pass through this window before your, and your therapists, very eyes.

The question really is, shouldn’t the therapist have therapy, only a mad person would choose to do such a crap job for a living.

My own invasive lady was very professional. As I was a colonic irrigation virgin, she matter of factly explained exactly what would happen and told me to shout if I felt any discomfort.

She then uttered the immortal words, ‘turn on your side and relax’.

Now when women hear those immortal words, it’s usually when someone wants to invade your lower regions with something hard cold and flat, as opposed to something hard hot and throbbing! Funny that.

The idea of the treatment is to ‘flush out’ your bowels with water, removing food waste that may have been sticking to the sides and lurking there for a zillion years and thus leaving them ‘free flowing’.

This build up of toxins in the digestive system, is believed to contribute to feelings of sluggishness, constipation and colonic irritation goes a long way in getting to the bottom of the problem. Or should that be the problem of the bottom.

In reality it’s a subtler version of the old fashioned enema, which was regularly freely administered in most hospitals across the land, but these days you have to pay a fortune for the same privilege.

It also has to be remembered that there are differing opinions as to the wisdom of having this treatment.

Some ‘experts’ will tell you that having too many toxins in the body can contribute to life threatening illnesses and so anything that detoxes the system can only be a good thing.

Others will say that during colonic irrigation there is a danger of causing damage to the bowel which will definitely be more harmful than beneficial.

But luckily the choice is yours!

So here’s what happens. A dual function pipe shaped a bit like a small vibrator is (to put it bluntly), inserted up your bum, it doesn’t hurt at all, and the feeling of discomfort is minimal.

Then, water is gently introduced through the pipe into the lower bowel. This feels very odd, and gradually you feel as if there is going to be a terrible accident, and huge embarrassment all round, but it doesn’t happen.

After about 30 seconds, the water stops, and then, the contents of your bottom are removed through an outlet valve in the same pipe, so basically, the water comes in, and the crap goes out. Simples.

It travels along the pipe…and THEN……….you see it all travelling through the window of the screen, after which it goes naturally into the plumbing system of wherever you happen to be.

Bizarrely, the therapist then begins to explain what the consistency, colour and general condition of your poo actually indicates.

Words like ‘Oh that’s VERY old waste’ and ‘that’s really healthy stuff there. Look it’s a much better colour‘, are uttered.

I have similar conversations when shopping with a girlfriend and she utters, ‘oh that dress is a bit old fashioned, look that one is much better colour’.

But let’s be honest, there are some opinions you can do without.

The process is repeated about 8 times, and the idea is that you wait longer each time before the outlet pipe kicks in, so that more water is absorbed into the bowel.

You really do feel as if your bum is going to explode and pebbledash the wall, but trust me it cannot and will not happen.

Eventually towards the end the outlet pipe is running clear and there is nothing left to come out. The fact that you have seen all this crap leaving your body actually makes you feel better. When it’s all over, and the pipe is removed, you just nip to the loo to make sure that there is no water left to come out, which there usually isn’t.

I went shopping straight afterwards and almost skipped along the road. At around £80.00 per flush, it is not a cheap option, but I have to say it is one I would repeat often if money permitted.

I had loads more energy and my head felt much clearer, leading me to wonder if maybe my brains are in my arse after all!

It definitely does kick start your digestive process, and you will feel and look instantly slimmer, which will motivate you to crack on and cut those carbs.

All in all it was a successful outcome and I was indeed flushed to excess…….

What do you think, would you give it a ‘go’?

KNICKERS TO YOU!

Posted on October 28, 2014September 12, 2018 by rosie

Well you lot can laugh all you like, but if you are anything like me, you can
often judge your relationship status by size of your knickers.

If you are in the throes of a brand new sizzling relationship, then you are probably at, or in, as it were, the matching skimpies stage.

If quickies are jumping out at you from all corners of your new romantic life, then getting ‘caught short’ so to speak, in a pair of belly warmers doesn’t bear thinking about.

You are on high alert, appropriately underdressed, and ready for action at all times.

You’ll have stocked up on, lacy knickers, French knickers, and silky knickers. Cotton gussets no longer feature on your underwear horizon. Saggy knickers are consigned to the bin, or if you are of a, make do and mend disposition, rehomed in a bucket under the sink and renamed ‘Duster’.

You must be incredibly old if you feel it is acceptable to use a pair of old drawers as a duster, unless of course you are over 85. What’s more, if someone has put some happy back into your lady bits in the autumn of your life, then I’d say, fuck dusting your chandeliers,….. swing from them instead.

I DIGRESS…..

Then time moves on doesn’t it. Not only do you move into a comfort zone with your new beau, you move into a comfy knickers zone too. Gradually, there becomes two parts to your undies drawer.

Every day pants, on the left, lace edged, a cheeky bow here and there, comfortable, yet still with a nod to the inner sexy you, but your special occasion, sexy thongs and strings are tucked away on the right, waiting for that waft of ‘come hither’ aftershave, that means, ……..well, you know what it means.

But how long I wonder before you are regularly browsing the ‘high leg, cotton gusset, full pant’ section again, instead of rocking an uncomfortable world wide wedgie!

Yes, I know we’ve all still got our holiday mini’s, and ‘hold your muffin top in’ maxi’s, but go on, admit it ladies, sometimes you just can’t beat your favourite pair of BIG PANTS!

STOP THE HYSTERIA OVER HISTORICAL GROPING!

Posted on October 7, 2014September 12, 2018 by rosie

This is not the first time I’ve written about historic cases of sexual assault, which really should be downgraded to…. inappropriate groping by men who should have know better.

I fully expect that there are some women who will totally disagree with my sentiments. But I was pleased to note the voice of reason in an article by Rachel Johnson in last week’s edition of the Mail on Sunday.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-2780848/RACHEL-JOHNSON-Bad-luck-Charlotte-arresting-old-gropers-just-waste-time.html

Of course, it goes without saying, that rape is, was, and always shall be the most appalling of crimes and I can do no better than echo this statement made by Ms Johnson.

‘When it comes to rape and paedophilia, there should be no statute of limitations on sins of the past. Go get ’em, dead or alive, I say.’ And well said her.

But really, how much more taxpayers money is going to be spent pursuing now ageing minor celebrities of yesteryear, for pinching a pretty girls bum or getting a bit too up close and personal with a pair of pert boobs.

How many more wandering hands of the 70’s and 80’s must be now sacrificed so that whoever feels they have been ‘assaulted’ can now get justice for their suffering and move on from whatever terrible thing that has blighted their life.

Have these incidents really been SO terrible, that they warrant ruining a man’s life, just for a thoughtless act of impropriety. Or, as Rachel Johnson advises in her previous column would possibly a swift kick in the balls and a sincere apology to any female he humiliated might be more of a fitting punishment.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-2772320/RACHEL-JOHNSON-DLT-didn-t-need-trial-just-kick-hurts.html

Most of these men, now being hauled off for hours of questioning at police stations across the land, are in their mid-50’s to late 60’s they are around the same age as many of the readers of my blog Hello Sixty. I don’t know about you, but I have enough trouble recalling where I was, and what I was doing LAST year, let alone 30-40 years ago, which is when many of these incidents allegedly occurred.

How the heck are they supposed to defend themselves against a perhaps bitter female, who simply wants to jump on the main chance Jimmy Savile bandwagon.

How ironic that his name was spelt Savile, with only one L, making him truly ‘vile’. That was indeed one cap that truly fitted!

Of course, it has be acknowledged that there are wildly differing degrees of severity within the ‘sexual assault’ crime. But the word ‘groping’ to me, does not constitute a sexual assault.

If ‘groping’ DOES indeed constitute a sexual assault, then, as a young, petite blonde, I was probably sexually assaulted more times than I care to recall throughout the late 60’s and 70’s, but strangely enough, I’ve got better things to do now than even think about it, and even if I could recall a single face, name, time, place, rather than let any incident ‘blight my life’, I simply slapped a hand, and often a face, and yelled a pretty short and sharp, GET LOST!

Do you agree, or disagree with my thoughts, or have you encountered the odd groper yourself?

Photo of Ms Johnson courtesy of TheGoodWebGuide.co.uk

SOD OFF INSOMNIA !

Posted on October 6, 2014September 12, 2018 by rosie

From the moment we are born, sleep comes high on the agenda of our life. As babies we are rocked and soothed into a sublime state of peacefulness with chubby tummies full of milky goodness.

As parents, we negotiate with tired, grumpy toddlers, recalcitrant children and moody teenagers, to get them into bed for a ‘good night’s sleep’, which we know will not only restore their good mood, it will, by association, restore our sanity into the bargain.

How ironic therefore, that once our offspring have flown the nest, and we could enjoy our own good night’s sleep, undisturbed by colicky babies, children with nightmares, and noisy teenagers, the insomnia fairy comes calling and like an unwelcome guest at a party, simply will not leave!

If you have trouble sleeping, no doubt you’ve had the same sage advice as me, to follow something called sleep hygiene. A nice warm bath, a milky drink, turn off your technology and get into the routine of winding down before you get into bed. Follow the rules and you’ll sleep like a baby.

Except you probably won’t.

Are you like me, is this what happens next? Your thoughts suddenly go into overdrive, then you get a quaintly called, ear worm that plays you a random song. Yes, I’ve endured many a Godly hymn on a loop at a fairly ungodly hour!

Then it’s tossing and turning, plumping up the pillows, going to the loo, throwing covers off, doing some deep breathing, counting sheep or stars, and more than likely going to the loo again, just to be on the safe side.

Nothing works, how frustrating it all is.

The experts tell us to distract our minds. Get up, and go into another room. I wonder what you are supposed to do in ‘the other room’.

Remember the ‘ no technology, no screens’ mantra, which rules out watching Emmerdale on catch up, and attempting The Times crossword is probably best avoided too.

I head for the kitchen. Tea and toast is my preferred middle of the night distraction. I laugh in the face of the minuscular shot of caffeine from Yorkshires finest brew, the way I’m feeling it can’t make me feel any worse!

The dog raises his head as the waft of my toast and peanut butter finds his nose, but he’s enjoying a lovely rabbity dream, and carries on snoozing. Let sleeping dogs lie, and all that.

They say the longest hours are just before dawn, but for me, and some of you, I know the longest hours are ALL the hours you are not sleeping!

Around this point, I often wonder what is the most civilised time to emerge from the bedroom to start the day, and what will I do once I get up. It’s too early to start hovering, and I’ve already had my breakfast, hours ago when the moon was still shining.

But on saying a cheery ‘Good Morning’ to your nearest and dearest, and commenting on your disturbed night, isn’t it so annoying when some bright spark says to you. ‘You just think you didn’t sleep, you probably weren’t awake for very long at all’

You mutter in a fairly forceful tone, ‘actually, I was awake all night’, but they never believe you.

Does the insomnia fairy rent a room in your house too?

WHITE DEE ~ SHE’S NOT SO WRONG!

Posted on October 4, 2014September 12, 2018 by rosie

It’s usually agreed that the two subjects never to raise at the dinner party table, are religion and politics and I for one can’t usually find the enthusiasm to discuss either, as I would probably be sent to the gallows, or find myself redirected down, instead of up when it comes to the heaven/hell bound afterlife lift.

However, I’m dipping my toe in the murky political waters, and offering up an observation about a couple of people who have made headline news for very different reasons over the last week or so.

There will be no flowery words, nor are my observations based on any indepth political knowledge. It’s just the thoughts of little old me.

Brooks Newmark, ah yes, that name might ring a bell with you. He is the Conservative MP for a town very near to where I actually live and as such, I’m presuming, was elected to represent the members of his constituency, listen to their concerns, and act upon them to the greater good of all concerned.

He was also the MP caught out in a journalist sting, when he took the questionable decision to allegedly expose himself on camera to who he thought was a young female admirer, whilst wearing some natty paisley pyjama’s.

Never a wise selfie for a Politician really.

Accordingly Mr Newmark has resigned from his ministerial post as Minister for Civil Society, which is rather ironic as I don’t consider showing your dangly bits on a webcam, particularly ‘civil’ behaviour. But hey we’ve all got a dark side I guess.

But regardless of all this, I feel in retrospect that to stand as an MP for the particular constituency which he still represents at the moment, was another of his questionable decisions..

What on earth was HE thinking? Let’s just quickly look at his credentials. Mr Newmark reportedly lives in a £15 million home in London, he has major connections with Lehman Brothers, and counts amongst his friends the US Secretary of State John Kerry.

Yes I can see that he has lots in common with his constituents in Braintree, one of the least affluent market towns in Essex, and where one of the highest number of single parent families reside, mostly in housing association properties, not to mention it’s extremely high rate of unemployment. So how can this privileged man possibly identify with their problems and issues is truly beyond me.

In 2010, Brooks won the newly configured seat of Braintree, increasing his majority to 16,121. As part of the new Coalition Government, Brooks was appointed a Senior Government Whip with responsibility for the Department of Business and the Wales Office and later was given responsibility for the Department for International Development (DFID) and the Office of the Deputy Prime Minister until September 2012. During this time, Brooks was a Lord Commissioner of HM Treasury. At the end of 2012, Brooks was elected to the Treasury Select Committee.

One wonders how much empathy he can genuinely show to Mr Average Constituent, at his ‘surgery’, and how do they actually relate and engage with him, during their allotted appointment. How can he possibly understand the problems that must have regularly been brought to his blue door. I do appreciate that it’s horses for courses and the population of Braintree will gravitate towards which ever MP they have sworn allegiance to, but for the residents of Braintree, I fear his latest quote….. ‘I hope people will balance the good I’ve done for the community over the years, with a foolish thing I did one evening’…. , will fall on deaf ears.

No chance mate, I think you may well be joining the ranks of the unemployed sooner than you think. The people of Braintree are an unforgiving lot, and I predict a surge for UKIP in next week’s by elections, and you’ll be out in the cold with nothing but your jim jams.

BUT, on a different note, despite her dubious qualifications, another person who probably COULD represent the aforementioned town much more effectively has also hit the headlines this week for a more positive reason and is non other than Deirdre Kelly, better known as ‘White Dee’, who, at first glance is a very in your face kind of woman, however, here is how she enlightened the Tory Party Conference, and in my view, by jove she’s not wrong.

First and foremost, she may switch from Labour to UKIP but says that Iain Duncan Smith is not doing his job properly…

Dee said that the Welfare and Pensions Secretary was “out of touch with the real world”.

“The more common you are the more in touch you are”…

Listen up Boris, Cameron and Clegg. “Just because you are a little bit common doesn’t mean that you are stupid and you wouldn’t be able to have a good input,” she said. “I think the more common you are the more in touch you are with real people, so yes [becoming an MP] would be something I would consider.”

David Cameron doesn’t need to worry about her competing for his job yet…

“[Running for parliament] is something I would think about, but obviously I wouldn’t object to starting at the bottom – I wouldn’t want to go straight in and have David Cameron’s job.

“I would think about it because I am interested in politics and I am interested in normal people and I am interested in the country.”

Job centres need to be less judgemental…

“I have experienced some not very nice job centres,” she said. “You do just go in, you sit down, you are looked down upon.

“They just need to understand that, just because you are on benefits does not mean that you are not a real person. Just because you are on benefits doesn’t mean that you are not physically looking for a job.”

Do you agree with some or all of her observations, or is she just a gobby cow who should get herself back to her Benefit Street and take her opinions with her!

Photo’s courtesy of the Daily Mail and Telemix